Beauty and the Beast
by RozaHathaway17
Summary: Tale as old as time...true as it can be...beauty and the beast. A retelling of the beautifully done Beauty and the Beast with Vampire Academy characters.
1. Prologue

**Hey my loves. I'm aware it's been ages and rather than publishing a new story, I should really be trying to work on the others. But Beauty and the Beast is my all time favorite movie and I couldn't help but think how interesting it would be to see the VA characters as the B &tB characters and well, here I am. I own absolutely nothing. There will be some differences from the movie in this story, but I'm gonna try to stay pretty true the the movie. Italics will indicate the narrator and songs later on. Updates will not be very regular, just bare with me! Enjoy! I don't own anything!**

 **Beauty and the Beast**

 **Prologue**

 _Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of France, lived a handsome young prince in a beautiful castle._

A tall, dark haired man sits before a vanity, while his staff adds the finishing touch on his white-powdered face. He truly was a handsome man, with a strong face and piercing brown eyes. He had a muscular build, although it was obvious from the way his staff bustled around him that he never did lift a finger to do much of anything.

 _Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was selfish and unkind. He taxed his village to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects and his parties with the most beautiful people._

"Master, it's time," the head of the prince's staff told his charge. The prince smiled coolly and made his way to the ballroom where fair maidens were already dancing to the music a beautiful blonde haired woman was belting out with obvious passion. The prince sat in his throne for a moment to admire his party before standing to join the beautiful dance.

The night was dark and stormy, although no one paid much mind to it. Every person in the ballroom was too enthralled in the magic of the night to pay much mind to what was happening outside. That is, until two hard knocks fell on the heavy glass door. The door swung open to reveal a haggard old woman with a heavy walking stick.

 _Then one night an old woman arrived at the castle, seeking shelter from the bitter storm. In return for his kindness, the woman offered the prince a single rose. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince turned the woman away._

The prince threw his head back and laughed a cold laugh. He tossed the rose away as though it were trash and turned to his subjects. Not wanting to anger the prince, his entire ballroom followed suit and laughed nervously at the poor old woman.

 _The woman warned the prince not to be deceived by appearances, for true beauty is found within. When he refused her again, her outward appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince begged for forgiveness but she had already seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed the prince into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. But there was still hope, for the rose the enchantress had offered was truly an enchanted one. If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return, before the last petal fell, the spell would be broken._

People fled from the ballroom and castle as the prince transformed in front of their very eyes. A young boy charged through the crowd to see what was happening but his mother grabbed him before he could get too close. The prince yelped in pain as his entire body took new form. The only part of him that remained unchanged, were the deep brown eyes.

 _As the days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased them from their loved ones memories. The prince fell into despair and lost all hope._

The beast stormed through his bedroom and slashed at all paintings of his beautiful face in a blind rage. He sulked out onto his balcony and glared miserably at the rose, sitting in its intricate glass cover, floating above the table and glowing a brilliant red.

 _For who could ever learn…to love a beast?_

 **Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks to everyone that read, followed, favorited, and reviewed! Here's the first real chapter! I don't own anything!**

 **Chapter One**

 **Rose**

The sun rose on a quant village in the heart of France. Birds were chirping and music could be heard from the center of the little town. As the villagers began to rise, a young girl approached her window, before sighing and opening the door to begin her day. She wore a patterned blue dress with a pin striped apron that had several pockets on the front. Her dress was tacked up on one side to reveal white flowered pants and brown, lace-up boots; very peculiar for a woman to wear. Her thick, wavy, dark hair was tied with a blue ribbon at the base of her neck and her deep brown eyes shone with an intensity unlike any other.

" _Little town, it's a quiet village,"_ she sang out as she made her way down her front steps and into town. " _Every day, like the one before. Little town, full of little people, waking up to say…"_

She reached the last of the houses and was about to enter the market in the middle of town when several windows flung open.

 _"Bonjour!"_

 _"Bonjour!"_

 _"Bonjour!"_ several woman called out their windows to each other. Rose continued her walk into town and dropped a coin on a baker's tray, grabbing a baguette and shoving it into her pocket.

 _"There goes the baker with his tray like always; the same old bread and rolls to sell,"_ Rose lilted in her beautiful voice. " _Every morning just the same, since the morning that we came, to this poor, provincial town."_

"Good morning, Rose!" Jean, the potter called. Rose approached him and patted his sweet donkey's head, placing an apple into his waiting mouth.

"Good morning, Mousier Jean!" Rose replied. "Have you lost something?"

"I believe I have," he said, puzzled. "Problem is, I can't remember what! Where are you off to this morning?"

"To return this book to Hans," she chirped happily. "It's about two lovers in fair Verona!"

"Sounds boring," the potter answers, going back to his tasks. Rose sighed and continued towards Hans' small library.

 _"Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question. Dazed and distracted, can't you tell? Never part of any crowd, 'cause her head's up on some cloud. No denying she's a funny girl that Rose,"_ a group of young boys and their teacher sang out as they marched into the building. Rose ignored the negativity as best as she could, continuing on her way. As the townspeople around her continued to mill around her, doing the same thing they do every day on end, Rose felt her energy draining.

 _"There must be more than this provincial life!"_ she exclaimed as she reached the door to the library and let herself in.

"Ah, if it isn't the only bookworm in town!" Hans sounded rather happy to see Rose. "Where'd you run off to this time?"

"Two cities in northern Italy," she answered wistfully. "I didn't want to come back. Have you got any new places to go?"

"I'm afraid not. But you may reread any of the old ones that you'd like," Hans told her, sounding almost as bummed as Rose felt. She skimmed the small line of books before selecting one and thanking Hans.

"Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big," she bid him goodbye and headed out the door, book already open in her hands. Rose spotted Yeva, the sweet beggar woman of the town and walked over to her. She handed her half the baguette she purchased earlier with a smile.

"What? No jam?" Yeva teased in her frail sounding voice. Rose smiled before producing a small glass jar with jam from another pocket.

"See you tomorrow," she told the old woman, and then continued on her way with her nose in her book.

" _Look there she goes, the girl is so peculiar. I wonder if she's feeling well. With a dreamy, far-off look and her nose stuck in a book. What a puzzle to the rest of us is Rose,"_ several woman sneered as they did their laundry and Rose walked past, seemingly unfazed. She hopped onto the wall where young girls were smoothing the wrinkles out of freshly washed clothing and they all pulled their garments back, shocked expressions on their faces.

" _Ohhh, isn't this…amazing?"_ she gazed in wonder at her book, leaning against the fountain in the middle of town. " _It's my favorite part because, you'll see. Here's where she meets prince charming but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three!"_

" _Now it's no wonder that she's named for beauty,"_ the seamstress pondered while her three daughters huffed behind her. " _Her looks have got no parallel."_

" _But behind that fair façade, I'm afraid she's rather odd,"_ the girls chorused. " _Very different from the rest of us."_

" _She's nothing like the rest of us!"_ the oldest of the girls huffed.

" _Yes, different from the rest of us is Rose!"_ a group of other villagers joined in, agreeing with the girls.

~.~.~.~.~

A handsome, muscular man sat upon a large black steed on the hill behind the village. He gazed through a hand held telescope, zeroing in on Rose. He sighed.

"Look at her, Eddie!" Mason barked. "My future wife! Rose is the most beautiful girl in the village. That means she's the best!"

"But she's so…well read!" Eddie told his companion, choosing his words carefully. "And you're so…athletically inclined!"

"Yes…but ever since the war, I've felt like I've been missing something. She's the only one that gives me that sense of…" Mason trailed off, failing to find the right words.

"Je ne sais quoi?" Eddie offered helpfully.

"I don't know what that means!" Mason barks. " _Right from the moment that I met her, saw her, I said she's gorgeous and I fell."_

Mason and Eddie trotted into town on their horses, Mason's large and dark and Eddie's small and dopey.

" _Here in town there's only me, who's as beautiful as me!"_ Mason gloated. " _So I'm making plans to woo and marry Rose."_

" _Look, there he goes, isn't he dreamy?"_ the seamstress' daughters swooned. " _Mousier Mason, oh he's so cute! Be still, my heart, I'm barely breathing!"_

The girls fell over each other, battling for Mason's attention but it was no use. His sight was set on Rose and he dismounted his horse and continued on his way.

" _He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!"_ they kept pleading for his attention, unaware that his horse was about to kick up a mass of mud. It splattered across the three of them with a splash and they screeched in disgust. Eddie smirked, relived that they were torn down.

"It's never gonna happen ladies," he stage whispered to them, before trying to catch up to the taller, faster man.

Mason fought his way through the crowd, grabbing a bouquet of flowers on his way. Rose spotted him and picked up her pace to try to avoid him.

" _There must be more than this provincial life!"_ Rose cried, nearly running towards her home.

" _Just watch, I'm going to make Rose my wife!"_ Mason bellowed, shoving through people, not caring that it was rude.

" _Look there she goes that girl is strange but special. A most peculiar mademoiselle! It's a pity and a sin. She doesn't quite fit in. 'Cause she really is a funny girl; a beauty but a funny girl. She really is a funny girl. That Rose!"_ most of the villagers finished their song together, still going about their everyday business. Mason finally caught up to Rose and her face contorted with discomfort. He held out the flowers to her with what he thought was a charming smile. It came off as more of a cocky sneer.

"For your dinner table," he explained. "Shall I join you tonight?"

"No," Rose replied, sounding miserable. "Not tonight." She began to walk away but Mason kept talking.

"Do you have plans?" he asked, perplexed that she turned him down.

"No," Rose answered, awkwardly. She jogged the rest of the way home, grateful that he didn't try to follow her. She was ready to spend some time with her father after hearing what her town had to say about her today.

 **Please review!**


	3. AN: Why Mason is Gaston

**Hi my loves! This isn't a chapter and I'm so sorry!**

 **I meant to explain why I made Mason Gaston at the end of chapter one but I forgot! I did consider Jesse and even Adrian for the character but ended up feeling like Mason was the best fit. So here it goes!**

 **1) Mason is madly in love with Rose and she doesn't return his feelings.**

 **2) He, you know, dies in the books (excuse me while I cry over that again).**

 **3) He's strong, a lot stronger than Jesse or Adrian.**

 **4) He's all about going after Strigoi in Frostbite (Gaston wants to kill the beast).**

 **5) The name Mason fits a lot better in the songs.**

 **I hope everyone gets where I'm coming from. I love Mason so, so much but he really would make a good Gaston.**


	4. Chapter 2

**Okay so I know this took like forever and a day and I'm sorry BUT it's extra long sooooo there you go. I don't own anything. Enjoy!**

 **So this chapter has been edited to change Stan to Ivan BECAUSE that was my original plan and I completely forgot when I actually had to name the damn clock. I am so sorry for any confusion and I'm a dumbass.**

 **Chapter Two**

 **The Castle**

Rose entered her home as quietly as possible, hearing her father singing softly along with a music box he'd made years before. It had the figures of a beautiful woman holding an infant while a handsome man painted their portrait inside. It closed into an intricately carved windmill, decorated in gold leaves and vines. Rose knew the music box well, as well as the painting that inspired it. She gazed wistfully upon the painting, wishing upon all wishes that she had been able to at least know her mother.

 _"How does a moment last forever?"_ Abe sang. " _How does a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try."_ He adjusted the doors of the music box slightly, eyes and mind somewhere far away.

 _"Sometimes our happiness is captured. Sometimes a time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts,"_ he smiled sadly at the beautiful windmill. " _And always will."_

"Good morning, Papa," Rose said, quietly, making herself known.

"Rose!" Abe snapped out of his daze, closing the box gently. "I'm glad you're here." Rose smiled, approaching her father and watching as he began fiddling with another of his music boxes.

"Could you hand me a-"Rose cut off her father's question, handing him a set of tweezers. "Ah, yes. That's exactly what I need." He tinkered with a piece of warped metal and set the tweezers down.

"Now I need…" Rose once again stopped her father by handing him a small gold gear. "No, no." He waved his finger and the looked back at his work and frowned slightly.

"Actually, yes. That'll do," he never understood how Rose just always knew what to do. She chuckled and made her way back around the table, adjusting some books and building her courage.

"Papa, do you think I'm odd?" she blurted out, starling the old man.

"My daughter?" he asked in mock shock. "Odd? Where would you get an idea like that?"

"People talk," she explained, avoiding her father's eyes, not wanting him to know just how much it bothered her. Abe sighed, thinking for a moment.

"You know, I once knew a woman who was so…" he paused, searching for the right words. "Full of life. So ahead of her time. People mocked her, too, until one day, they found themselves imitating her." Rose drew back up to full height, excited. She knew he was talking about Mamma.

"Tell me more about her," she pleaded, sitting beside her papa. "Please, just one more thing." Abe got the far off look in his eye that Rose knew all too well and she sunk, thinking he wasn't going to answer. He locked eyes with his daughter.

"Your mother was fearless," he answered, proudly. "Fearless." Rose grinned from ear to ear, standing and helping her father prepare for his journey. They carefully packaged a rectangular music box, with rounded corners and a beautiful pattern and went outside to prepare the carriage. Once everything was exactly in place and Phillipe, their horse was hooked up to the carriage, Rose said a tense goodbye to her father. She knew he always returned home safely but she still worried. She handed him the reigns and placed her hands on his knee.

"What would you like from the market?" he asked, leaning into his daughter, like she was about to tell her a secret. Rose pondered for a moment, then smiled.

"A rose," she said, simply, "Like the one from the painting."

"You ask for that every year!" Abe exclaimed, grinning.

"And every year, you bring it," she replied.

"Right, then. Off we go," he gave the reigns a tug. "C'mon Pavlov." Rose waved good-bye to her father and then ran inside. She scribbled a design on a page of parchment and beamed to herself. She hated doing the laundry and she may have solved her problem. She gathered the clothing, shaved some soap, and grabbed a rope, then ran off into town.

Once there, she began carrying out her plan. The potter's mule was at the wash area, which Rose was counting on in order to do what she needed. She tied the rope to her basket of laundry, attached it to the mule's harness, threw in some soap shavings and sent the mule on a leisurely walk around the water. The basket spun just right and the soap began to suds up. Rose smiled and sat on the wall with her book. She was only reading for a few moments when a little girl approached, perplexed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, incredulously.

"The laundry," Rose answered with a laugh. "Come! Come on!" she exclaimed, holding her book proudly. The little girl sat on the walk next to Rose and they began going through the words together.

"The blue bird sat on…" Rose pointed out each word encouraging the girl to continue.

"Sat on the dark wood," she finished, unsure of herself.

"That was amazing!" Rose told her, thrilled she was picking it up so quickly. Just then, the headmaster of the schoolhouse spotted them.

"What is this?!" he called, enraged. "Teaching another girl to read?" Another villager joined in and an audience soon formed.

"Isn't one enough?" a bitter widowed woman sneered. Hans shook his head sadly, wishing that someone understood how important the written word was. A group of burly men tipped Rose's laundry out of the water and onto the dusty ground. She huffed, annoyed, but stood to collect her things, mouthing 'later' to the girl.

~.~.~.~.~

"You're the most beautiful person in the village," Mason told the mirror. "No one deserves you. At least our children will be beautiful."

Eddie ran over to his best friend, panting slightly.

"Mason!" he yelled. "There's a certain damsel in distress by the wash well." Mason turned from the mirror where he was talking to himself, startled. He grinned a wolfish grin, before turning back to his reflection.

"It's hero time," he whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." With a final glace at himself, Mason stormed off. Eddie took his place in the mirror.

"Me neither," he added, tossing his head back and following the bigger man. Mason had already reached Rose and knelt beside her, picking up clothes.

"Rose! I heard you had trouble with the headmaster," he dove in. "He never liked me either." Rose pointedly ignored Mason and grabbed her laundry, heading home. He ignored the hint and followed on her heels.

"Let me give you a little advice about the villagers," he continued, as though Rose was paying one hundred percent attention to him. "They're never going to trust the change you're trying to bring." She spun on her heal to face him, enraged.

"All I wanted was to teach a child to read!" she shouted.

"The only children you should concern yourself with," he gestured between them, "is your own." Rose reached the gate enclosing her garden and closed it on Mason.

"I'm not ready to have children," she told him, mortified. He followed outside the fence to a broken portion and stepped over it, stomping heads of lettuce on the way.

"Maybe you haven't met the right man yet," he insisted, grabbing her apron.

"It's a small village, Mason," Rose pulled herself away from him. "I've met them all."

"Perhaps it's time to take another look," he practically pleaded. "Some of us have changed." Rose stopped in the middle of her outside steps.

"We could never make each other happy, Mason," she explained. "No one can change…that much. And I will never marry you, Mason!" She darted for her front door, practically slamming it in his face. He smiled a fake smile and turned to leave, furious. He stepped in a muddy puddle on the sidewalk and his anger worsened. Rose peaked out her front window, ensuring he was gone and walked back onto her porch.

"Can you imagine? Me? The wife of that…boorish, brainless…" Rose said to herself. She picked up a cloth from the railing and draped it over her head like a bonnet.

" _Madame Mason, can't you just see it?"_ she pretended to be a docile lady. " _Madame Mason, his little wife! Ugh!"_ Rose ripped the cloth from her head and grabbed some birdseed to feed her chickens as she ran hopped down her front steps.

 _"I want much more than this provincial life!"_ she ran out of the boundary line of the village and up a lush green hillside.

" _I want adventure in the great, wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand, to have someone understand. I want so much more than they've got planned."_ Rose stared off into the distance, wishing she could run as far as her legs would take her and never look back.

~.~.~.~.~

Abe glanced around the increasingly darkening woods nervously.

"Lovely part of the woods, Pavlov," he announced to his only companion. "I only wish I recognized them." He continued on as the storm overhead became more threatening. Growing more and more uneasy, he let out a shriek as a crack of lightning downed a tree directly in his horse's path. Pavlov veered up, letting out a distressed whinny.

"Steady, boy!" Abe exclaimed, calming himself. He surveyed the fallen tree, realizing his path was blocked. He signed softly and steered his horse towards the newly opened path.

"When one path closes, another opens," he tried convincing himself, fear setting into his stomach. Pavlov caustiously approached the path and carried on his way. Abe gazed around in an amazed shock as he realized the part of the woods he was in had snow on the ground and more falling gently from the sky.

"Well, would you look at that, Pavlov?" he announced, "It's snowing! In June…" He whispered the last bit to himself, confused. Suddenly, he heard a low snarl besides him and the sinking feeling in his stomach intensified. He jerked the reins on his horse violently when he noticed several wolves keeping pace with them. The wolves picked up speed with the horse and wagon and the path took a sharp turn, flinging the old cart and Abe off of Pavlov's harness. Abe righted himself and tried to get to higher ground to escape the wolves as Pavlov took off running. Unfortunately, the only thing he succeeded in pulling himself up was putting himself face to face with the obvious alpha wolf. The wolf's menacing eyes were marred with a nasty scar and Abe shrieked, losing his grip on the snowy branch he was grasping.

Pavlov dashed by at the perfect moment for Abe to land upon his trusty companion's back and spur him forward through large iron gates into an impressive courtyard. The wolves snarled and snapped from behind them but did not dare enter those gates. Abe did not take notice of the wolves' fear, only his horse's and his own safety for the moment. If only he knew what lied ahead…

"Well! They'll have to get their dinner somewhere else, won't they old pal?" he exclaimed, joyous at avoiding near certain death. He dismounted his steed and led him to the castle's stable.

"Ah, here we go. Hay and water," he patted his horse gently and looked up at the looming castle. "I suppose I should go thank our unwitting host."

Abe left his horse to climb the imposing stone steps to a hauntingly beautiful carved door. He knocked gently and the door swung open, seemingly by itself. He entered slowly and peeked around the door to find…no one.

"Hello?" he called, nervous. He hung his cloak on the coat rack and made his way slowly into the foyer. "Is anybody home?"

~.~.~.~.~

An intricately carved candelabra came to life to whisper to his friend, a beautiful clock.

"A traveler!" he quietly exclaimed. "He must have lost his way in the woods!" The clock sneered at his companion.

"Yes, I see that Christian," he rolled his mechanical eyes.

"Who said that?" the frazzled man shouted. "Is anybody here?" He approached the table wear the enchanted objects sat and leaned towards them. They closed their eyes and stayed perfectly still. The man picked up the candelabra and examined it.

"Such craftsmanship," he murmured, then turned to the clock, turning it in his hands. "Exquisite." He placed it back on the table and continued to explore, looking for his host. Once he was out of earshot, the friends sprang back to life.

"A man on taste," Christian boosted.

"He was talking about me," Ivan bitterly told the cocky candle. Meanwhile, music wafted in from the ballroom, stopping when the man once again called out, searching for the owner of this mysterious castle. The man turned and spotted a beautiful fireplace with a toasty blaze already it in. He practically ran over to it, delighting in the warmth. He was there for mere moments when he noticed a feast spread out on a long dining table. He darted to the table, sitting before the food and thanking whoever was listening, for he still had no idea. He began to eat but only got to take about two bites before the delicate teacup on the table slide forward and glanced up at him through painted on eyes.

"Mom said I wasn't supposed to move," he told the man softly. "Because it might be scary." The man jumped back, frightened to say the least.

"Right then!" he called, running back the way he came. "I thank you for your hospitality but I really must be going!" He fell all over himself, snatching his cloak from the rack, not noticing a menacing figure watching him from the grand staircase. He darted out the door into the cold night and fetched his faithful horse from the stable. The figure continued to follow his every move but the poor old man didn't suspect a thing. He mounted his horse and took off towards the gate before coming to an abrupt stop, spotting delicate white roses.

"I promised Rose a rose," he said to his horse. He carefully grabbed his pocket knife and went to grip a single rose, pricking himself on a thorn. He gasped and withdrew his hand for only a moment before carefully reaching forward once again. Pavlov heard something shift behind them just as Abe cut through the stem and began to turn back to his horse. He kicked up his front legs and let out a distressed noise before galloping away without his master. Abe was about to call out to his horse when a large figure knocked him to the ground. His eyes widened with pure terror as he stared into the eyes of his host. A terrifying, angry beast.

 **Review please :)**


	5. Chapter 3

**A few quick things before we go into this. Yes, I did change Cogsworth to Ivan, not Stan. It was my intention all along but then I drew a blank when I got to it. His name is changed in the previous chapter as well. In response to a guest reviewer, of course it's not going to be Beauty and the Beast word for word. That would be boring. My plan is to flesh out Rose's interactions with the castle staff and the beast. Vampire Academy plots and themes will be woven in, as well as my own thoughts and a few things from the original animated B &tB. That being said, I don't own anything. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Three**

 **The Beast**

Rose knelt in her garden, tending to her plants when Pavlov burst into town, panting heavily. She sprang to her feet, confused.

"Pavlov! Where's Papa?" she asked the distressed horse, staring into his eyes. "Take me to him!" She threw the reigns over the horse's neck and mounted quickly, spurring him into action. He raced towards the path he just arrived from moments before and took her to the enchanted castle. Rose led Pavlov into the stables and found a heavy stick to use as a weapon. She quickly but cautiously ran up the steps to the door of the castle and let herself in.

"Hello? I've come for my father!" she called, sounding stronger than she felt. She walked deeper into the castle, looking around for her father.

~.~.~.~.~

"Ivan, look!" Christian whispered to his companion. "It's a beautiful girl!"

"Yes, Christian, I see it's a girl," he answered, annoyed. "I lost my body, not my sight."

"Perhaps she is the one," he insisted. "The one who will break the spell." Rose turned towards the sound, confused.

"Who said that?" she approached the table where the candelabra and clock sat. She studied them with curiosity then grabbed the candle and ran up the grand staircase in the castle. She heard a cough from above her and picked up speed, hoping to find her father. She took the winding staircase up a tower to a small cell. Her father laid within the cell, still coughing.

"Papa!" Rose dropped her stick and the candelabra and crouched down with her father.

"Rose!" Abe knelt across from his daughter and held her hands through his prison. "You must leave this place! You shouldn't be here!"

"I'm not leaving without you!" she insisted.

"Rose! This castle…" he told her, hurriedly. "This castle is alive. You have to go." Just then, the master of the castle began to descend from a taller tower. Rose turned towards the noise he made.

"I've come for my father!" she called, rising and grabbing her stick.

"Your father is a thief!" he snarled.

"No!" Rose exclaimed. "My father has never stolen a thing in his life."

"Perhaps you don't know him that well. He stole a rose from my garden. He stays."

"Can't you see? He's sick! He needs a doctor!" she cried. "I want to take his place."

"No, Rose, he means forever," Abe told his daughter. "Apparently that's what happens around her when you pick a flower!"

"A life sentence for a rose?" Rose turned to her father's captor.

"I got eternal damnation for one. I'm simply locking him away," he growled. "Do you still wish to take your father's place?"

"No! I lost your mother, I won't lose you too. Rose, listen to me. Go, live your life. I'm old; you have so much you still need to experience. Forget me," Abe pleaded.

"I am who I am because of you!" she insisted, tears welling in her eyes. The beast watched this exchange, perplexed by how easily they would risk themselves for each other.

"Choose," he demanded, with a slight growl. Rose regarded her father and then looked to the shadowy creature and tried to make out his features.

"Come into the light," she requested, to which she got no response, Anger seized her and she grabbed a torch from the wall, bringing it closer to his looming form. What she revealed terrified her. A man with the face of a monster but very, very human eyes. She drew back with a shocked gasp.

"Give me a moment alone with him," she said softly, but determined. The beast scoffed.

"Forever can spare a minute," she felt her anger well within her. "Are you so cold-hearted you won't allow a daughter to kiss her father goodbye?" The beast's cold eyes softened ever so slightly. He pulled a lever, opening the cell.

"When these doors shut, they will not open again," he growled, hardening himself. Rose rushed into her father's arms, embracing him fiercely.

"Rose!" Abe exclaimed. "I love you. Forget me. Don't be afraid."

"I love you, Papa," she told him fiercely, leading him discreetly towards the door. "I'm not afraid. And I will escape." She whispered in his ear and then shoved him out of the cell and onto the stone steps of the tower. The beast slammed the door shut, shocked.

"You took his place," he said to the beautiful woman in the cell.

"He's my father," she answered simply.

"He's a fool," the beast snarled. "And so are you." The beast pulled the old man to his feet and drug him down the stairs. Abe pleaded with him not to hurt his daughter but the beast said nothing, still astounded by the girl that now occupied his prison. He threw the man into the carriage outside his castle to send him back to his village.

"Rose! I will come back for you!" Abe wailed from inside the enchanted carriage.

~.~.~.~.~

Rose searched her cell for something to help her escape and came up empty-handed. She approached the window with caution, looking at the drop. She shuddered slightly, knowing she'd never survive that fall. Just then, the cell opened and she jumped, then grabbed the small stool to use as a weapon. No one stood at the door so she took a few hesitant steps forward. A candle stepped forward, lighting the darkening cell. Rose yelped.

"Allo!" Christian exclaimed, cheerfully. Rose swung the stool and knocked him over, his flames going out when he fell. She shuffled forward, seeing a clock climbing the stairs.

"You can talk?" she inquired, scared she was losing her mind.

"He never shuts up," Ivan sneered.

"We're here to take you to your room," Christian stood, brushing himself off and relighting his candles.

"But he said when this door closes, it won't open again," Rose told the animated objects.

"Never mind the master," the candelabra brushed her off. "He's just grumpy sometimes."

"Christian, are you sure this a good idea?" Ivan asked, fearful of his master's reaction. "The master won't be happy."

"Nonsense, Ivan! We're simply helping! Come now," he waved Rose forward. Afraid of any funny business, Rose grabbed up the candle and let the clock lead the way. They walked over a bridge to the more comfortable part of the castle. Rose eyed the candelabra in her hand skeptically.

"You must forgive first impressions. I hope you were not too startled," Christian said, feeling Rose's eyes studying him.

"Why would I be startled? I'm talking to a candle!" she exclaimed, sarcastically.

"Ah, candelabra," he corrected. "Big difference. But consider me at your service. Anything you need, just tell me. The castle is your home now. You may go anywhere you wish."

"Except the west wing," Ivan added, proudly helping. Christian waved his candles and shook his head. Ivan immediately understood, frowning.

"Which we do not have," he tried to cover himself but Rose's curiosity was already peaked.

"Why? What's in the west wing?" she questioned.

"Nothing!" Ivan shouted quickly.

"Storage space," Christian chimed in.

"Yes, storage space. Now to the east wing," Ivan continued, nervous. "Or as I like to call it, the only wing."

~.~.~.~.~

"Watch your step, s'il vous plait," Christian told Rose, pushing open the doors to her room. "Welcome to your new home. It's modest but comfortable."

"It's beautiful," Rose breathed.

"Why yes," Christian agreed. "The master wanted you to have the finest room in the castle." He ran forward, pouncing onto the bed, letting the thick layer of dust fly everywhere.

"It's been a long while since we've had guests," Ivan explained, sheepishly. A beautifully carved, bird-shaped feather duster flew into the room.

"No worries, mademoiselle," she lilted in a soft but beautiful voice. "I'll have this place spotless in no time. She floated around, sweeping her feathers around the room, cleaning then soared into Christian's waiting arms.

"This plan of yours, it's dangerous," she told the enchanted candle.

"I would give anything to kiss you again, Lissa," the charming candle told the beautiful duster. If she could have blushed, she would have.

"Ah, ah, ah! I have been burned by you too many times, my love," she teased him.

"Does everything here talk?" Rose inquired, picking up a hairbrush from the vanity and studying it. "What's your name?"

"You're talking to a hairbrush," Ivan rolled his mechanical eyes when she got no answer. Lissa and Christian just giggled.

"Sydney! Wake up! We have someone for you to dress," the candelabra exclaimed, waking the sleeping wardrobe. She flung her arms and doors open, singing loudly. Rose started, with her eyes wide. The wardrobe yawned and rubbed her eyes. She gasped and pulled Rose to her.

"Finally, a woman! Beautiful eyes, proud face. The perfect canvas!" Sydney exclaimed, thrilled. "I'll find you something worthy of a princess!"

"I'm not a princess," Rose told her, alarmed.

"Nonsense!" Sydney threw open her bottom drawer only for a flutter of moths to escape. "Oh, how embarrassing! Froufrou, come help mama!" A footstool burst into the room, vipping excitedly. She then opened her doors and other drawers, twirling yards upon yards of varying shades of pink fabric around Rose. She completed an obnoxiously large dress, then paced a heavy white wig upon her head.

"Subtle, understated. I love it," Christian said, backing out of the room with Lissa and Ivan.

"Send my love to the maestro, Froufrou!" Sydney called to her dog as he leap out of the room, before immediately falling back to sleep and snoring loudly. Rose looked down at the layers of pick in disgust, then threw off the wig and slipping out the bottom of the material. She surveyed the room, trying to hatch an escape plan. She quickly learned that she was still in an obscenely tall tower, then eyed the hideous dress. She had an idea…

 **Review please :)**


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